


Paintbrush

by Boldly_going_places



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Soulmates, Tropes, in the second chapter, mentions of child abuse, soulmate tattoo, soulmate!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boldly_going_places/pseuds/Boldly_going_places
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras got his soul mark when he was born. On his wrist was a paintbrush with ‘Grantaire’ written crudely underneath. As long as Enjolras could remember, that’s what his soul mark was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Section I

Enjolras got his soul mark when he was born. On his wrist was a paintbrush with ‘Grantaire’ written crudely underneath. As long as Enjolras could remember, that’s what his soul mark was. He loved it, cherished it even. The bond they shared, however, was a little different. Through the bond, Enj could feel Grantaire’s emotions and physical pain. The bond didn’t always hurt. Of course, there were the characteristic bouts of temperament and little specks of sadness that would be expected from a little kid, but nothing like this.

All throughout the day, Enj had been feeling a thrum of apprehension from Grantaire, but his own ecstasy eclipsed Grantaire’s emotions. He was too happy of a third grader to be affected by bad feelings. But when Enjolras and his best friends, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, were playing on the swings, going as high as they could, wind whipping through their hair, Grantaire’s apprehension became more apparent.

Now cold fear gripped Enjolras. He stopped swinging and laughing, scuffing his feet against the ground to stop. He looked around at his friends, who had also stopped their swings. There was nothing to be afraid of. Fear was coming from Grantaire.

“Enj, what’s the matter?” Combeferre asked, hopping off his swing and going over to his friend. Courfeyrac followed ‘Ferre, his soulmate, and stood on the other side of Enjolras.

“I don’t know,” Enj said just above a whisper, as if he spoke too loudly someone would find him.

“I’ll go get Mrs.--”

But before Courf could finish, Enj let out a scream. Something sharp and hot had cut his arm, and the impact made him fall off his swing. He clutched onto his throbbing arm, sobbing and curling into himself. However, there was no blood when he looked down.

Something had happened to Grantaire.

Enjolras started panicking. If it hurt him this much, he couldn’t imagine how much pain his soulmate was going through.

Enjolras’ sight started getting fuzzy around the edges, and blackness surrounded him. Ferre’s and Courf’s voices became distant. Everything went black.

 

_There was a gold string set in a dark void. From instinct, it seemed, Enjolras reached out and tugged at it. He didn’t know why, but his whole body tensed. A faint tug came back, and he found himself able to relax. Enj knew it was Grantaire on the other side._

 

Enjolras woke up slowly. He heard the rhythmic beating of a heart monitor first, then saw the bright lights of a hospital room. He just stared up at the ceiling. His arm didn’t hurt anymore. There were muffled voices out in the hall; he recognized one as his dad’s, but the other one wasn’t familiar to him. He listened carefully to their conversation.

“There is a possibility that we can find Enjolras’ soulmate,” he heard a male voice say (probably the doctor), “It’s still in the experimental stages, but--”

“No. I won’t put my son in danger because of an accident like this,” his dad said. “If Enjolras’ soulmate is suffering, then there must be other ways you can find him, but I won’t put my son in danger.”

“Enjolras’ soulmate’s suffering will cause your son suffering too.”

“Then cut the bond,” His dad said.

Enjolras’ heart sped up. He couldn’t do that. Grantaire was his...his soulmate, literally an extension of Enjolras’ soul. Cutting the bond would mean losing Grantaire’s happiness, it would mean not being able to know what he was going through, and being able to help his soulmate in any way. The procedure was like cutting off an extra limb.

“Sir, that procedure is more emotionally damaging than any other procedure we have. To have a person of his age go through that could damage his psyche for years to come. Any psychologist or neurologist could tell you that,” the doctor said.

Enjolras held his breath. His dad may not have loved him that much, but he didn’t want to see Enj suffer.

“Fine,” his dad said.

All of the muscles in Enjolras’ body relaxed.

Once the doctor and his dad stopped talking, the enormity of his situation was realized. Grantaire had been hurt...badly. There was nothing Enjolras could do about it besides send gentle emotions across their bond.

And even the bond was nearly taken away from him.

That would have been worse than any hell Enjolras could imagine.

 

Over time, the bond they shared became worse. Panic attacks, sharp pains, and the worst of all, self-loathing, came from Grantaire. It was the self-loathing that bothered Enjolras the most. More than anything, he wanted Grantaire to be happy.

 

Enjolras woke up with his stomach feeling heavy. Something was off, but he shrugged it away. Probably just a normal pre-coffee morning. There always seemed to be something off without coffee. Enjolras stumbled downstairs to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. While the coffee was brewing, he went to the bathroom and started his shower.

The warm, high pressure water woke him up a little more. He closed his eyes and relaxed into the stream. When he went to reach for the shampoo, he caught a glimpse of Grantaire's name on his wrist, under his soul mark where it always had been, now changed to the initial 'R' and the paintbrush above it. He stopped. He was missing something. He was missing...someone. Enjolras slammed the water off and jumped out of the shower.

There was nothing. No pain. No hate. No happiness or sadness or indifference. Enjolras stood in front of the mirror staring at his reflection. He breathed in—out—in—out. His chest was heating up. His eyes started to fill with tears.

No. No, Grantaire couldn't just be gone. Enjolras clenched his jaw and gripped the sides of the sink until his knuckles were white.

From the back of his throat came a tiny whimper, and with that little sound, his whole body started heaving and tears poured out of his eyes. He collapsed against the wall and curled into himself. Emptiness consumed his body.

And when his phone started buzzing on the sink he couldn't muster up the strength to grab it. He had stopped crying a while ago, but he sat in the bathroom, his body limp against the wall. He couldn't feel anything. He stared blankly at the cabinets in front of him. He couldn't think.

Enjolras was empty and alone, two things he had never felt before.

 

_There was a string again. It was cut and had turned white. He hadn't had this dream since the first burst of pain when he was in third grade. Enjolras tugged on it. The string just came toward him, but there was no tug back._

__

__

_Enjolras dropped it and turned his back._

 

Nothing came from Grantaire for two years. He wasn't dead, that much Enjolras knew. If he was, the soulmark on Enjolras' wrist would have gone white, signifying a soul leaving the body, but it was still black. Sometimes Enjolras would run the very tips of his fingers over his soul mark. In his junior year of high school, when the bond was first broken, he covered up his soul mark with make-up. It wasn’t because he wanted to forget Grantaire, it was just too painful. He would nearly have a breakdown whenever he saw it.

University was different. He went with 'Ferre and Courf as they had planned to do since they were kids. His freshman year, he started a group outside of the University. He called it Les Amis l'ABC (they would meet in a cafe called the Musain). And maybe there was still a hollow feeling in his chest, and slight twinge of sadness when he ran his hand over his now exposed soul mark, but there were people to help him when he was really feeling depressed and alone.

 

It was the winter of his junior year at university the time when poets were writing poems about the snow in the streetlights and everybody was cold all the time. Enjolras had just wrapped up a meeting and was talking to Feuilly about his art exhibition coming up when the jingle of the doorbell to the Musain sounded. Enjolras ignored it and continued talking to Feuilly.

“I've got a few pieces up, and I'm getting paid for it. They really loved my work,” Feuilly said.

“Lots of people love your work, Feuilly. It's...emotional work,” Enjolras said. He knew about art but not so much as to be a critic. He really did love Feuilly's art, though. It was colorful and always popped with whatever feelings Feuilly was trying to convey. Feuilly laughed and was going to say something else, but he got interrupted.

“Feuilly!” somebody hollered. Feuilly glanced over as did Enjolras.

There was a smiling, curly-haired man waving at them from across the cafe. Something inside Enjolras twinged, but he ignored it.

“R!” Feuilly shouted back.

Enjolras' breath stuck in his throat. It couldn't be...no...R was probably a common nickname. But as the man started walking over to them, Enjolras had his doubts. He could feel a humming starting from his feet and proceeding up to his ears. The closer he got the more insistent the humming became.

Once the curly-haired man got to them, he sat down across from Enj.

“R, this is Enjolras,” Feuilly said.

R looked over at Enjolras, and his pupils visibly dilated. Enjolras stared right back. This was him. There was no other reason he would be feeling this.

“Enjolras this is--”

Enjolras interrupted him, “Grantaire. You're--”

“Alive. Yeah,” Grantaire said, his voice coming out breathy.

Enjolras could only stare.

“Uh--,” Feuilly said. “Do you want me to...”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said.

Feuilly got up and walked away. It was just the two soul mates, both with a lot of questions, one more than the other. Neither of them spoke.

“Sorry you got stuck with me,” Grantaire said. 

Enjolras shook his head, perplexed by the thought that Grantaire would think that. “I wouldn’t take anybody else Grantaire.”

Grantaire looked away, tears in his eyes. He took a deep breath and looked back Enjolras, and opened his mouth then closed it again. 

Enjolras started to reach out for his hand, retracted it, but Grantaire grabbed it and held on. 

The bond that had been lost in Enjolras’ junior year of high school sparked back into existence. There was a sudden overwhelming rush of emotions and Enjolras tightened his grip on Grantaire’s hand. 

Both looked each other in the eyes. 

“I guess I should explain,” Grantaire said, still gripping onto Enjolras’ hand

“You don't have to,” Enjolras said, “You can if you want, but you don't have to if it will make you uncomfortable or if you don't want to. It doesn't matter.” Enjolras grimaced and stuttered out, “No, I mean, I would like to know and it probably does matter to you but, uh,” he found himself at a loss for words. This was new. “But I...I'm just...I'm glad you're here.”

Grantaire smiled and looked at Enjolras. Something on his face, happiness and sadness and big green puppy dog eyes, makes Enj melt a little inside. This is the Grantaire that he imagined.

“Me too.”

Even without the bond, Enjolras could tell all he needed to by the look in Grantaire’s eyes and his tone of voice, serious, sincere, and sounding on the verge of tears. 

Enjolras stood up and pulled him into a hug, Grantaire resting his head in the crook of Enjolras’ neck. 

This was a start. This was all Enjolras needed for now.


	2. Section II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire tells Enjolras what happened when they were disconnected.

Enjolras wondered what happened to Grantaire in their years of disconnection. He did a lot, even when he wasn't really thinking about it. He loved Grantaire, more than anything or anybody he could imagine, but he worried he would say or do something that would trigger a bad memory. It had been smooth so far, only the occasional arguments (which were more clearly translated to foreplay), but if Enjolras did do something to hurt his boyfriend he wasn't sure he would live it down.

He hadn't pressured Grantaire, would never want to pressure R to tell him something that had effected them both so greatly. Enj knew Grantaire would tell him sometime (he hoped R would tell him), but even if he didn't, Enj would love him all the same.

Sometimes, though, it would be easier.

Like now. Grantaire was staring into the distance, eyes glazed and hands tightly around his coffee cup. Enjolras had just walked into the kitchen from the bedroom, mumbled good morning to his crazy haired boyfriend, and only when he had a cup of coffee in his hand did he notice R's vacant look.

Enj didn't panic. He had seen Grantaire like this more than a few times. A gentle call of his name would pull him back to earth.

“R. Hey, hon, do you want anything to eat?” Enj asked, stepping on the opposite side of the table from him. Grantaire looked at him. It took him another moment to realize that Enjolras had asked him something; when he did, he rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Sorry, what did you say?” R asked, pushing off the table and walking over to the fridge.

“Want anything to eat?” He asked again. Enj walked up behind him, wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder.

R rested his head on Enj’s shoulder, and looked into his boyfriend’s eyes. He seemed to be thinking. 

“Enjolras…” R said. 

“Mmm?” 

“I want to tell you what happened...before we met each other in person.” R said, turning around in Enj’s hold.

Enj gazed at R and kissed his forehead. “Okay.”

R walked out of Enj's embrace and wandered to the counter. 

R took a deep breath and said, “When I was really little, my mom was single. She was amazing, worked harder than anybody I'd ever met. But when I was around seven, she met this guy. He seemed kind of nice at first. He got her presents, made her laugh. He was nice to me, too, at first, and asked all about my life, my mom. He started to pry and I started to get nervous. Everyday he asked more and more about my life, and he eventually asked about my soul mark.” R ran his fingers across his wrist. “I...I didn't want to tell him about you or anything else, but he scared me. He was a monster, and I didn't know what to do, so I told him about you. When he heard...” Grantaire wiped his face and Enj moved a little closer to him. R cleared his throat and continued. “When he heard you were another boy, he exploded. He called me--” R started crying more. 

Enjolras couldn't help it. He placed his hand on his boyfriend's forearm. R leaned into Enj's arms. 

“He called me homophobic things...And he took the kettle from the stove and poured the boiling water onto my arm.” 

Enj flinches, remembering the burning he felt on his arm when he was little. Grantaire wiped more tears from his cheeks; Enj reached and wiped the rest of tears from R's cheeks. 

“It burnt my soul mark off. I didn't have a chance to yell before my mom came in and beat the shit out of him.” A smile ghosted across R's face. “She held me when we were waiting for the police, and I remember she was saying sorry over and over,” Grantaire started crying again, took a moment to compose himself. “I was scared and confused. At the time I couldn't figure out why she was sorry, but now I realize...y'know, she felt guilty, like she did something. She didn't, she didn't know. I don't really remember what happened after, but I woke up in the hospital. I haven't seen him since then, and I hope I never have to. My mom kept custody of me, but we lived with my aunt from then on. But it wasn't the same, y'know? I was alone and she felt guilty, we were kind of broken. I just spiraled from there, everything got worse. I didn't mean to, you know...” R cleared his throat, forcing back tears and looking directly at Enj now. “I didn't mean to get rid of our connection. I was in a really bad place, Enj, I didn't want you to-to hurt as much as I was, so I just...I had somebody help me get rid of the connection, it was just...I was hysterical when it happened.” R started crying.

Enj held R in silence for a while, rocking them both back and forth, both crying. He kissed the top of R's head. A weight was taken off his shoulders, his stomach untwisted. Both of them were relieved to have the truth on the table. Grantaire curled up more in Enj's embrace; Enj wrapped his arms around him tighter. 

“You don't hate me, do you?” R asked into Enjolras' shoulder. His voice was still tight, still fighting back tears.

“How could I hate you?” Enj asked. “I love you, R. I am in love with you. You only did what you did because you cared.”

“I'm sorry, I'm broken” R whispered, face still hidden in Enj's shirt. 

Enj wanted to place kisses all over R's face, assure him that, no, he wasn't broken, and even if he was, Enj wouldn't care. He would still love R with all his heart. But he didn't know how; all he could think to do was hold Grantaire. 

“I love you, R, so much, don't be sorry, I love you. I would never blame you for severing our connection,” Enj said, gently stroking his boyfriend's back. He could still feel the grief R was feeling, and Enj tried his best to send as much love as he could to R. 

More time went by in silence. They had stopped crying a while ago, but the memory was still there. Eventually, R raised his head from Enj's shoulder. Both of them felt emotionally drained, but Grantaire especially so. He hadn't shared that story with anybody in a long time. He was tired. 

“Enj...” He said, “Can we just...not do anything today. I'm really fucking tired.” 

“Yeah.” Enj said. “You wanna sleep?” 

R nodded, and both went to the couch, R curled into Enj. God. That was a lot to take in. Grantaire, who was completely emotionally drained, fell asleep quickly. Enj followed his boyfriend's example, and soon both men were asleep on the couch.

Enjolras is facing a piece of golden string. Last time he remembers it, it was white, hanging dead. Somebody seems to be tugging it from the other side. Enj picks up the golden string and tugs at it: this time, the string brings a black haired man with it. He gives Enj a shaky smile, and tugs the string in answer to Enj, who stumbles forward. Soon, both the men are only feet away from one another. They lean in and there is light throughout the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever for me to upload, but it's done. I'm glad I actually got it done. If you spot any mistakes, please let me know. Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed it, if not, please keep blatant negativity out of the comments, thank you! And thank all of you lovely folks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing these two so much! I hope I didn't completely slay their characterization and comments and criticism are greatly appreciated. I know this is ridiculously overused trope, but I love the idea of souls so much and I couldn't pass up on the opportunity to write these two together.


End file.
